


What Goes Bump in The Night.

by Stuck_in_Pylea



Series: From The Mixed Up Files of Dr. Ivy Mitchell [3]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Bisexual Female Character, Canon Bisexual Character, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Girls with Guns, Gun Violence, Heartache, Heartbreak, Humor, Robbery, Same-Sex Marriage, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:53:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28844136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stuck_in_Pylea/pseuds/Stuck_in_Pylea
Summary: A calm foggy autumn night in suburbia is disrupted when an intruder breaks into Chloe and Beca’s house with the intent to rob them. Both ladies scramble to protect their child, and themselves. But it’s the aftermath that takes its toll on them. Can the Mitchell family pull through, or will this be the end of Bechloe and their happily ever after?
Relationships: Chloe Beale & Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Series: From The Mixed Up Files of Dr. Ivy Mitchell [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998244
Comments: 49
Kudos: 38





	1. What Goes Bump In The Night.

**Author's Note:**

> Once more I’d like to thank Another Bechloe Shipper(Amy) for beta’ing this story for me. She’s been invaluable. She really has the patience of a saint for putting up with my incessantness. 
> 
> Her story Heavy Petting Zoo is a must read.
> 
> CW: Gunshots/Gun violence.

**_Mitchell Residence_ **

**_Decatur, GA_ **

**_3:33 am_ **

The moon barely managed to bounce off of the fog that graced the sleepy cul-de-sac at such an ungodly hour. Fall was at its precipice; scores of leaves covered the ground as far as the eye could see. No surprise, as a man, clad in all-black attire from head to toe, found the wet leaves sticking to his boots a minor inconvenience. Curtis Bower flicked a wet leaf off of his shoe. Tonight was his night to prove to the world he was ready to run with the big boys. After scoring some jingle jangle, that is. The guys can have whatever’s left of the score.

  
This was the house; he was sure of it. Google Earth and some rather intrusive snooping online confirmed it for him. All Right, if he was being honest it was the adjacent building behind the home that was a dead giveaway. Shining his flashlight through the small window he determined this was a recording studio.

Multi-Grammy award-winning music impresario Beca Mitchell did live here.

Slicing open the mesh screen and propping open a back window, the intruder slipped inside the impressive two-story home. Readying his flashlight, racking the slide of his gun, Curtis began his ascent.

Four-year-old Logan Mitchell, quietly but with utmost determination crept into his mommies’ bedroom. The child knew he wasn’t supposed to go inside their room without knocking unless it was an emergency. Well, if the cartoons had taught him anything, this was a pretty big emergency.

Sidling up to her bed, Logan noticed his mommy snoring lightly. A little drool puddle was forming on the silk sheet.

“Mommy, wake up,” he said softly giving her a light, yet firm shake.

Groaning ever so slightly, Beca stirred before slowly opening her eyes.

“Hey kiddo, why are you up so late?” she murmured sleepily.

“Mommy. Someone’s in the house,” he whispered.

The revelation shook the woman out of her weariness. “Huh?” She sat up, looking at her child. That’s when she heard it - the shuffling about a floor below them transitioned to rhythmic padding.

_They’re heading up the stairs now._ She realized.

“Shit,” she panicked. Reaching over, she frantically shook her sleeping wife beside her.

“Chloe,” she whispered frantically. “Wake up.”

“Whaaa…” Chloe rolled over to face her wife, barely able to register Beca or her son’s shape under heavy eyelids.

“Wake up Chlo!” Beca whispered a little more loudly. “Someone’s in the house.”

“What’re you talking ‘bout,” the redhead yawned?

Slightly more alert, the older woman gave a dreamy smile at the sight of hers and Beca’s son.

“Chloe!” Beca hissed. “Somebody is in our fucking house.”

Dr. Chloe Mitchell bolted upright. The three traded worried glances back and forth before Chloe finally heard it herself.

_Footsteps_. And, they were approaching the top of the stairs!

Exchanging a quick nod, both women’s maternal instincts took over. Beca comforted their son, who buried his face into his mommy’s shoulder. “I’m scared,” he whimpered.

Hugging Logan tightly and rubbing her hands up and down his back, Beca whispered, “Shhh. It’ll be okay, baby. Mama and I would never let anyone hurt you.”  
  


The music producer looked over her shoulder at her wife who dashed into their massive walk-in closet. Truth be told, Beca was terrified. Her heart was jackhammering. This could be the end of all three of them. Another tragic statistic in the ever rapidly expanding epidemic of healthy, vibrant, young people cut down in the prime of their life.

The young woman scolded herself, mentally.

_A gated community._

Of course, foolish pride caused them to cast aside any notions of moving into a gated community when the young couple went house-hunting after leaving Los Angeles after Beca played the west coast game for all it was worth.

Like the good loyal friend, she fulfilled her contractual obligation to make one album with Khaled. She did the whole world tour thing and secured one hell of a bag. For a while, all was right as rain, like Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire, or Martin Scorsese and Robert De Niro, collect $20 and pass go, or Fat Amy and the bagel she’ll inevitably choke on; it just made sense y’know....until it didn’t. Until the brunette felt the nasty depression rearing its ugly head. Production was infecting her soul, and she was more than willing to let that particular bug bite her like Chloe bites her every Thursday night. You don’t see DJ Khaled or David Guetta lighting up TMZ. You don’t see paparazzi following them at the airports or to the donut shops. Singing was great, performing was exhilarating, but Beca realized her heart belonged to production, a nifty little bonus that would allow her to continue hers and Chloe’s relationship in relative peace.

They wanted to expand their family. So Beca, not at a loss with her lucrative connections due to years of networking and well-earned prestige opened her own record label in Atlanta. Finally, they were free to start their own little family without it causing an undue burden. Paparazzi don’t go to Atlanta. Now Beca could be her own boss and work from home, Chloe could continue working at the animal hospital. Neither had to worry about pawning their child off on a nanny.

Were she and Chloe paying the price? Should they have gone the gated community route after all?

Beca couldn’t worry about that now. She and Chloe needed to be strong for the sake of their child. Luckily, they planned for this.

Swiping clothes out of the way, Chloe found what she was looking for. Lining her fingers up with the grooves on a small safe, her fingertips tapped the plastic buttons in sequential order. The tumbler clicked, disengaging the lock. Chloe flung the lid of the safe open and grabbed their secret weapon.

_A literal secret weapon._

Hugging the delicate foam interior was a .357 Smith and Wesson Model 19 classic series [revolver](https://www.smith-wesson.com/product/model-19) with gorgeous walnut grips, a blued steel finish, and a sleek K-frame.

When Chloe and Beca decided to become parents, they made the mutual decision to purchase a gun. The world is descending into chaos at an alarming rate more and more each day. For the sake of protecting their family, they concluded it was a necessity.   
  


Two bullets resided in the cylinder, just as a precaution. Chloe Mitchell frantically loaded the firearm to capacity with .38 special hollow-point bullets, because the recoil from .357 ammo was a bit much for the ladies, before quickly hauling ass to rejoin her wife and child.

The sound of glass being smashed filled the home - clueing both women into the location and providing a little relief.

“They’re in the trophy room,” Beca said.

That was what the Mitchell family referred to the extra bedroom upstairs as. Not only was it where Beca’s Grammy, AMA, and Billboard awards resided, in a glass cabinet nonetheless, but where Chloe and hers ICCA championships were stored. It was also where his trophies or other accomplishments will proudly be displayed when Logan gets older.  
  


“Right,” Chloe agreed.

“Mama, why do you have a gun?” Logan asked somewhat worriedly.

“Not now, Bug,” Chloe responded as politely as she could, given the stressful circumstances. 

It’s not that they’d rehearsed this particular scenario, but they had discussed it. A few years back when they decided to become parents after they bought the gun, it was determined Chloe would be the one to shoot it should something like this ever happen. Not that Beca didn’t do all right on their occasional dates to the gun range, but Chloe was the veterinarian. A medical professional, she was used to keeping her composure in high pressure, adrenaline-pumping situations. Having performed more surgeries than she could count.

Beca looked into her wife’s sleepy blue eyes. It was go time. Now or never!

“Baby boy. I need you to be strong right now. Hold onto me, and don’t let go no matter what.” Dropping down to her knees, Beca wrapped her arms around Logan’s chest like a tight shield. Chloe clicked the hammer back on the gun.

Chloe and Beca mouthed in unison.

_Three_

_Two_

_One_

_I love you, Beca. I love you, Logan_. Chloe flung the door open.

“Oh shit,” the burglar said staring down the barrel of the gun Chloe had trained on him. Forgetting that he, too, had a weapon.

Instinctually Beca’s other arm wrapped around Logan’s head as she dove on top of him, shielding the four-year-old. Unable to process what happened first whether it was the blinding light from a flashlight or the sound of a cannon going off in her bedroom, rumbling sounds of furniture crashing and colliding, or Logan’s squirming as the full force of her bodyweight lay on top of him. “Stay down baby! Stay down!”

She may have screamed, or she may have cried. It hit the brunette, then and there, that this might be the last time she sees her beautiful wife. Maybe it would be the last time they’d all see each other. At least the three of them would die together, was that better or worse?

Time slowed down. An eternity crammed into one small lull. Beca didn’t move, she didn’t think she _could_ move. She wasn’t even sure if she was alive.   
  


“Mommy,” Beca heard her son whisper. Beca heard it, that meant her brain was functioning, that means she wasn’t dead, right? Logan is alive, which was more important than Beca being alive. Teary blue eyes met her own as Beca cautiously opened hers. There was her son, alive, _breathing._  
  


Beca bolted into a crouching position, “Take off your shirt baby,” she said, panicked.

“Why, Mommy?”

Beca gritted her teeth. “Logan Arthur Mitchell, now!” her voice was stern. “Please.”

Her son obeyed, quickly tossing off his pajama top. Beca ran her hands over his torso, then spun him around, examining him from behind.

_No blood, no holes, no visible wounds_. Beca pulled her son into a tight hug. “I love you so much,” she cried.

“I love you too, Mommy.”

Seconds later, Logan broke the embrace. “Mama!” He shouted. “I’m the man of the house, I’ll protect you!” He pushed past Beca, running full speed into his Mama.

Beca was petrified. The urge to turn around overwhelmed her. Logan’s choice of words caused the brunette's heart to drop to her feet. It was a Schrödinger’s Chloe situation. Her wife both alive and not alive until she looks. Right now, Beca would rather keep the playing field level at fifty-fifty, make her peace with the unknown. Because if the smaller woman turned around to see the love of her life dead, well, Beca knew it would destroy her. A world without Chloe would be a sad, lifeless void of endless despair and suffering.

But Beca had to know...

_Rip off the band-aid_ , Beca’s gut told her.

She turned around.

“Mama,” Logan said, panicked.

Chloe Mitchell sat on the floor. Sweat dripped down her forehead. Beca watched as her wife quivered and visibly, violently trembled.

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Chloe sobbed hysterically. “What did I just do?”

Chloe felt the vibrations from her vocal cords, she knew she was talking. Yet her ears were still ringing from the gunshots. The redhead remembered firing three, a light going out, blood on a wall, then collapsing into her current sitting position.

“-lo.”

“C-oe,” the redhead registered a faint sound, different from the ringing in her ears.

“Cho-e.”

“Chloe,” Beca shouted.

This time, the older woman was able to process her surroundings. A small set of arms wrapped around her waist. Her little boy. Chloe’s sweet, brave, little boy.

Chloe felt the familiar touch of soft milky white hands patting her down, lifting her shirt the best she could, with their son’s hands limiting Beca’s improvised examination. Preventing her from pulling off Chloe’s shirt, and executing a thorough exam.

“I’ll protect you, Mama,” Logan said, face buried in his mama’s side.

“T-th-thank-thank you, sweet boy,” Chloe stuttered.

“Logan,” Beca commanded. “Sweetie. I need you to turn around. I have to take off Mama’s clothes for a sec. Make sure she doesn’t have any owwies.”

Logan still had his head buried into Mama’s side. He shook his head ‘no’ in response to Beca.

Beca physically pulled him back. She brought her face directly to her son’s level, “I. Am. Not. Going. To. Tell. You. Again,” she growled. She twirled her finger, hoping that her son could tell from the tone of her voice, and the strained look on her face, that she wasn’t in the mood for games. Beca hoped Logan would take the hint; she didn’t know how she would react if the boy decided to try her again.

Logan obeyed his mom.

Beca’s hands slid up Chloe’s waist. Until her top was scrunched over her head, the redhead didn’t fight her wife when Beca cajoled her body into different positions. She didn’t fight when Beca slid down flannel pajama bottoms to examine the lower portion of her body. Chloe was topless, with her shirt ruffled and rucked around her neck and head, obstructing her vision.

“Ch-check h-him,” Chloe whimpered.

“I did. He’s good.” Beca guided Chloe’s pajama pants back up to her waist, then pulled her top back down. Like their son, Chloe appeared to be free of any wounds. Beca noticed the still loaded firearm discarded on the carpet next to Chloe. Checking over her shoulder to make sure their son wasn’t looking, Beca pushed the cylinder release latch, then smacked the ejector rod. Three spent cartridges and three un-fired bullets spilled out. Beca quickly stuffed all six in her pocket, then stashed the weapon in a drawer for the time being.

“Okay, you can turn around babe.”

Logan turned around to face his mothers. “Is Mama okay?” the child asked Beca.

Beca nodded. “Yeah. She’s in shock.”

“What’s shock?” Logan asked.

“Uhhhhmm well,” she said, clearing her throat. “It’s kinda like when something serious happens and you’re scared, and you don’t know what to do.” Beca shrugged.

“I’ll keep the bad man away, Mama,” Logan rushed over to hug Chloe once again. Beca followed suit. The little family cried as they hugged each other in the darkness.

“You know I still love you, even though I got frustrated with you, right?” Beca turned to her son, who gave her a tearful nod. “C’mere baby boy.”

Logan scootched over as much as he possibly could without letting go of Chloe. Beca leaned over to kiss their son on the cheek, then hug him. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, bud,” she cried.

Once Beca felt Chloe was going to be all right, the petite brunette pulled out her phone, promptly calling 911.

The music producer slammed their bedroom door shut, then crawled back to hold her wife and baby tight, refusing to leave or get up until the police arrived.

_To be continued...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I tried to portray gun safety, and usage as realistically as I possibly could.
> 
> *For my non-gun people, a .357 magnum can fire both .357 and .38 special bullets. Since .357 rounds have a slightly longer casing that means more gunpowder which results in greater recoil.
> 
> *Drop a comment, maybe even subscribe. I just want to be adored! Lol
> 
> *Stay tuned!


	2. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the morning after and the couple is reeling from the events of the previous night. Tensions flare as the couple distance themselves from each other to process the event in their own way, all while questioning their worth as parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst.

**6:10 _am_**

**_Mitchell Residence._ **

**_Decatur, GA._ **

  
Police snapped pictures of the blood on the wall in the hallway. Their working theory was Chloe clipped the intruder in the shoulder, and then he fumbled and stumbled down the stairs, dashing out into the night with a trophy in tow.

The officers logged the evidence, took more pictures of broken glass, examined the weapon the women used, then returned it to them. Beca walked through the house documenting things on her phone for insurance purposes.

Chloe remained downstairs, calling friends and their families once she calmed her nerves. Chloe let their families know she, Logan, and Beca were all right.

Logan acted as his mama’s shadow, refusing to leave Chloe’s side until she got “better,” or in case the “bad man,” came back. If Chloe got up to go to the kitchen or answer the door, Logan followed behind her. If Chloe sat on their couch, Logan parked it right next to her.

The police were finishing up when a familiar voice called out to Chloe, causing her to flinch. Logan bolted off the dark chocolate colored sectional into the welcoming arms of the older woman. 

“Gramma!” Logan shouted.

“How’s my favorite little guy doing?” Sheila smiled.

Chloe took a deep breath then slid off the couch to greet her stepmother-in-law.

“I’m not a little guy Gramma, I’m a big kid.” Logan bounced up and down.

“Oh, silly me,” Sheila laughed.

“Chloe, dear. How are you?” Sheila asked earnestly. The older woman pulled the redhead into a comforting hug, then kissed her on the cheek when Chloe cried on her shoulder. “I know, sweetheart. I know, it’s okay. The three of you are safe, that’s what’s most important.”

“Where’s Warren?” Chloe sniffled.

Sheila broke the hug but still kept both hands on Chloe’s shoulders. “He’s looking for a spot to park with all those police cars.”

“Grampa!” Logan shouted.

“Oof. There’s my little slugger,” Beca’s dad knelt down to hug his excited grandson who nearly knocked him over.

“Never mind. He’s right here,” Sheila amended with a smile.

Warren Mitchell basked in the hug from his grandson, still dressed in his fleece blue pajamas with the spaceships on them. He noted the four-year-old’s wary expression, chalking it up to tiredness and boundless energy waging a winless war within him. The soon to be retired lit professor, rubbed the little boy’s back when a familiar presence drew everyone’s attention to the top of the stairs.

“Beca,” he said, releasing his grandson from the hug then standing up.

“Dad!” Beca ran down the stairs, running to hug her father in a rare display of vulnerability that a few years ago the brunette would’ve denied she was capable of. In the years since college, Beca matured a great deal. She’d given up trying to be something she wasn’t. Becoming a mother only pushed her further into the realm of certainty. The thought of their son growing up thinking he can’t feel free to express his feelings or that it’s best to just bottle them up, scared her.   
  


“Do they know what happened?” Warren asked his daughter, who was busy crying on his shoulder. Then he looked at Chloe with equal concern. To her disappointment, the redhead could only shrug her shoulders. Chloe avoided the police combing through their home. Avoiding was putting it mildly; she also, surprisingly kept her distance from her wife, opting to decompress downstairs with their son.

Beca sniffled. “They-they think it was some asshole wanting to score drugs, and he picked the house he thought was crawling with shi-stuff he could pawn. But he didn’t expect a loaded gun to screw up his entire night.” Beca looked at her dad, then stepmother as she composed herself.  
  


“You shot him?” Sheila asked.

“Chloe did,” Beca said.

The three looked over at the other woman, who simply nodded her head. They seemed to notice she was uncharacteristically withdrawn. She seemed to shrink under their prying glances.

“Cops think she winged him in the shoulder. The blood spatter on the wall of the upstairs hallway was a giveaway.”

Before Warren could interject to ask Chloe how she was feeling, the little boy, whom everyone forgot was in the room, cut them off.

“Gramma, Grampa!” Sheila and Warren looked at Logan with adoration, “I’ll protect Mama and Mommy from the bad man.”

“We know you will, baby.” Sheila smiled.

Logan seemed to pick up intuitively on his Mama’s unease. He ran to Chloe, who smiled as her son wrapped his arms around her legs and waist, refusing to let go.

“He’s a sweet boy,” Warren commented.

“He’s the sweetest.” Beca agreed. She smiled at her wife who seemed less jittery now that Logan was hugging her. She hoped to unpack her wife’s uneasiness once their son went off to play and they could talk privately.

Beca walked over to Chloe so she could crouch down and talk to their son. “Hey, bud, why don’t you go show Gramma and Grampa your LEGO’s? I’m sure they’d love to play.”

“But I don’t wanna leave Mama. She’s sad.”

Beca looked up at Chloe. A mutual look of concern was shared between them. Chloe bit her bottom lip, before she quickly kneeled, bringing her face to face with her wife and their little boy. “Hey, cutie pie, it’s okay. Mama’s fine.” Chloe put forth her best fake smile, one she thought could convince even Beca (it can’t).“Go play with Gramma and Grampa. I’m sure they’d love to see some of your new toys.”

“Okay,” Logan let go of Chloe, having been convinced.

The child dashed over to his grandparents, taking their hands and leading them rather enthusiastically upstairs as if they’d never been in the family’s home before, and the child was eager to show them around. Once Beca was certain she heard the final thump of footsteps on the final step she turned to her wife.

“You okay?” Beca asked, with a softness in her voice that never failed to make Chloe weak in the knees.

“Oh, totes. Just a little rattled, nothing I can’t handle.” Chloe scoffed with her trademark Chloe Beale (Mitchell) confidence.

Beca wasn’t convinced but, never a stranger to needing to take time to process her thoughts or decompress, let it go. The young woman figured they could come back to it later once the initial shock wore off.

Beca leaned up to capture her wife’s lips in a chaste kiss, “C’mon. Let’s go make some coffee.” Both women headed for the kitchen, sharing an awkward silence the entire time.

* * *

“Why don’t we take Logan with us?” Warren asked. The four of them were sitting in Chloe and Beca’s living room drinking coffee, not saying anything to each other until the awkward silence became unbearable.   
  


“Uhhhh-,” Beca shrugged her shoulders then looked over at Chloe, not wanting to just blurt out an answer without her wife’s input.

“Yeah. Sure,” Chloe nodded her approval.

“I think you two could use some time alone,” Beca’s dad said.

“Logan!” Beca called their son, who stopped playing with his cars to sidle over to his mothers, seated on the couch. Beca lifted him, to sit on her lap, “Hey bud, wanna spend a few days over at Gramma and Grampa’s house!”

“Yeah!” The child bounced with excitement.

“Go upstairs with Grampa, jellybean, so he can help you pack. Mama and I need to talk to Gramma,” Beca told her son.

The three women waited patiently for the two boys to leave them before they continued. When the rapid thumping ceased from the stairs Beca turned to Chloe, who gave her a curt nod, then Beca faced Sheila, “Do you still have that shotgun?” Beca cut to the chase.

Sheila flung off her sunglasses so she could look her stepdaughter in the eye. “Sweetheart, no self-respecting woman throws out a good Mossberg,” she smiled.

Chloe and Beca knew of the weapon because, years ago, when they bought their gun, Beca’s dad overheard her talking to Chloe about their date at the gun range later that night. Never one to pass up a bonding opportunity, Warren Mitchell asked his daughter if Sheila and he could tag along. Reluctantly Beca said yes, only to discover it was a fun little double date. Sheila even let Beca put a few rounds through her shotgun. She even endeared herself to Beca when she stood up to homophobic jackasses hassling Chloe and her stepdaughter at the range. Begrudgingly the brunette admitted, as she’d come to about several things in recent years, that bonding with Sheila could be quite fun. As Beca matured, her thoughts and feelings started to betray her to the point she couldn’t bring herself to despise her father’s wife. Even going so far as to admit...she liked her at times.

“Keep it loaded.”

Sheila cocked her eyebrow. “Do you think this was a coordinated attack?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Some detectives are coming by later,” Beca said.

“We just don’t want to take any chances,” Chloe added.

“Sweetheart your wish is my command.” Sheila smiled. Under normal circumstances such a request would violate her sensibilities regarding firearm safety, being that a small child was staying with them, and her stepdaughter was asking her to store a loaded weapon. Luckily, Sheila had enough sense to keep it in a safe up in her closet. Not to mention the Mossberg [500](https://www.mossberg.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/50429-media.jpg) had a safety so even if on the extreme off chance a child found it, they wouldn’t be able to cause irreparable damage.

Logan’s safety took priority as well. Beca and Chloe might have been right, but Sheila’s gut said it was an isolated incident. But Logan was her grandchild, and Beca and Chloe were her family. Even though her gut instinct told her the situation was all bark and no bite, Sheila Mitchell could never live with herself if the opposite proved to be true. She’d have been devastated if the people she loved were hurt on her watch.

“There are my favorite boys!” The older woman smiled as her husband was pulled back into the living room by the four-year-old, in one hand while trying to steady a kiddie suitcase in his other.

“Gramma!” Logan shouted, forgetting to use his inside voice. “I can’t wait to show you my new Legos.”

“He’s excited about those LEGOs, hon. Wants us to build the castle with him.”

“A castle?!” Sheila exaggerated her excitement. “Why, Mr. Logan, I’d be honored.”

“Why don’t you say goodbye to your moms, kiddo? Give them a big hug because they’ll miss you.”

Chloe acted like it didn’t bother her when her son ran to Beca first. Just like she tried to pretend it didn’t faze her that the child, in his most vulnerable, most scared state, chose _Beca_ to come to about a major problem.

“Bye Mama. Feel better. Remember I’m just a phone call away.” Logan said into her body as they both hugged each other tightly. Her son’s words brought quick tears to her eyes. Chloe and Beca always told their son, whenever one of them was away on work, that they were always a phone call away. Any time of day.

Chloe sniffled, then wiped her tears. “Thank you, beautiful boy,” the redhead smiled as she looked at her son directly in his deep blue eyes.“Now you-” she paused for dramatic emphasis, “go have fun with Gramma and Grampa!”

The four hugged and kissed each other then said their goodbyes. Only then, after several hours, could Chloe and Beca finally take a second to breathe. To decompress.

The events of the day finally hit them.

* * *

The first time they snapped at each other was over something trivial.

_Dinner._

Chloe found Beca sitting on their couch, entrenched in her music, in the same position the brunette had been in for the past five hours, only getting up to use the bathroom. 7:00 was in its final moments before the next hour

“I don’t know, Chloe. Anything!” Beca shouted.

“Please, just help me out here, Bec,” Chloe begged. “Hamburger Helper or mac and cheese?”

“I don’t fucking care!” Beca yelled.

Chloe threw her arms down to her side. She stormed off into the kitchen breathing shakily. Chloe made a show of show of slamming their cupboards and clanging the pots and pans together while she rummaged.

Beca’s nostrils flared. She gritted her teeth trying to ignore Chloe’s little act of defiance. The producer flung the volume up on her headphones.

Sheila called a few minutes later so Logan could tell his mothers goodnight and let them know he misses them.

Chloe put on a brave face, doubling down on her attempt to not cry when Logan, _of course,_ asked to speak with Beca (the _constant_ in his life) first. Their conversation lasted a couple of minutes. Chloe barely managed to net thirty seconds before her little boy decided he was super tired, told his mama goodnight, then handed the phone back to Sheila to hang up.

Both women fell asleep on opposite ends of the couch that evening. Chloe still couldn’t bring herself to venture upstairs yet.

Chloe’s nightmares began that night.

* * *

Beca’s glass of orange juice remained largely undisturbed the next morning, save for the seldom sip, when Chloe finally burst into the kitchen, having had enough of her wife’s inaction for the past hour and a half. It didn’t help Beca’s case, that Chloe forced herself to go upstairs since that’s where the only bathrooms with showers were.

Beca looked up from her laptop, under no illusion as to the mood her wife was in. The urge to roll her eyes was overwhelming.

“What?” Beca asked, already annoyed.

“Why haven’t you called the police station yet?” Chloe shouted, her hands planted firmly on her hips. The bulging of her knuckles did not go unnoticed by her wife. “Why don’t you find out if they caught him yet, _Beca_?” Chloe made sure to add emphasis to her wife’s name.

Beca massaged her temples with her fingers, “They’ll let us know when they get a lead, _Chloe_.” Beca let out an irritated sigh.

“So, that’s it then?” Chloe threw one of her arms up in the air, “you’re just going to sit around all day listening to music until something happens? Do you even care?!” Chloe swallowed a lump in her throat. She regretted her words immediately.

“Do I even care?!” Beca slammed her laptop shut. “Fuck you, Chloe!” She swiped her laptop off the table, carrying it with her as she stomped up the stairs.

“Fuck you too!”, was the last thing the brunette heard when she slammed their bedroom door shut and collapsed to the floor, a sobbing, shaking mess.

They went to bed angry that night for the first time in their relationship. Beca wrapped herself up in their comforter, and bitterly drowned the world out as she tried, desperately, to sleep.

Chloe cried herself to sleep on the couch, tormented the entire time by the same nightmare.

* * *

Beca woke the next morning to padded footsteps in her bedroom. At first, she panicked, thinking her worst fear came true, the intruder returned to finish the job. It was the scent of floral shampoo and body wash that put her mind at ease. Beca stirred before she looked over her shoulder. Chloe scrambled around their bedroom, dressed in her work scrubs, gathering a few items.  
  


Beca turned over, untangling herself from their silky sheets and floofy comforter.

“Thought you weren’t going into work for a couple more days?” The woman grumbled.

“Changed my mind,” Chloe said, a rather pissy edge to her voice. The redhead refused to make eye contact with her wife. Chloe grabbed her keys, snatched her purse off the dresser, then left without so much as saying goodbye or even attempting to give Beca a kiss.

Beca nodded. If that’s how Chloe was going to be, then she might as well take a page out of her book. Maybe spending the entire day at the label holed up in her studio will help her blow off some steam. Maybe pumping out tracks like there’s no tomorrow will take her mind off the fact some _asshole_ came after her family, and they’re still out there while she’s powerless to stop them from tying up loose ends.

Or how she failed as a mother, as a wife, as a provider. What if she and Chloe had been killed? The thirty-two-year-old neglected, over the years, to have wills drawn up; their youthful arrogance coming back to bite them in the ass.

Beca made it a full three hours before she took out her phone to fire off a text to her wife.

Beca [11:40 AM]: We both said some things we didn’t mean.

Beca watched the three dots pop up then disappear. It went on for several seconds before they disappeared altogether. Several long minutes went by, while Beca went back and forth with herself, constantly switching from simmering anger to a calm rationale to explain her wife’s radio silence. She was married to a veterinarian, they’re busy. Chloe’s probably busy with surgery or a consult.

Angel Face [11:53 AM]: Yeah. We did.

Angel Face [11:53 AM]: I’m sorry.

Beca [11:54 AM]: I’m sorry too.

Beca [11:55 AM]: I don’t want us to go to bed angry again. Like EVER again.

Angel Face [11:57 AM]: Agreed.

Angel Face [11:57 AM]: Gonna work late tonight. I’ll sleep upstairs with you. In bed. Tonight.

Beca [11:58 AM]: Love you

Angel Face [11:58 AM]: Love u too.

It was well past 11 pm when Chloe trudged through the door. Much longer than the older woman anticipated. She wondered if a small part of her didn’t _want_ to come home; or if she intentionally buried herself in paperwork until exhaustion overwhelmed her and she could yearn to sleep in hers and Beca’s bed tonight?

Achingly, she slipped out of her scrubs, into her matching white fleece pajama set with little red cardinals on it. Her wife was snoring lightly on her side of the bed, Chloe couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in her chest. Sure, she said she was working late, but this was way later than usual. It wasn’t fair to Beca. Just like it wasn’t fair for Beca to be the only one to talk to their son when Sheila and Beca’s dad likely called a few hours ago to let them wish their little boy a good night. Chloe hated that she put Beca in a situation where she had to fib to their child about why Mama couldn’t talk.

For a couple with enough foresight to buy a gun and make the preparations they did, Chloe and Beca really fumbled the catch on this one. Logan wasn't Chloe’s biologically, so what would happen to him if Beca had been killed? The redhead wasn’t clear on the red tape, or whether or her wife ever looked into the matter.

Drying her eyes, Chloe slid into their silk sheets. Hoping, even saying a little prayer she’d be graced with a dreamless sleep tonight.

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *As the title states, this is only the beginning.
> 
> *If you plan on buying a gun, please take into consideration that children snoop and get into things and places they aren’t supposed to. Keep that in mind when deciding what gun you want to buy. Be like Beca, Chloe, and Sheila and store your weapons, unloaded, in a secure spot, preferably with a lock so children cannot access it/them.
> 
> *Also is anyone else having an issue where it posts the notes from your previous chapter/s under your notes for the current one? Does anyone know how to fix that? It’s annoying and confusing.


	3. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heartbreak, betrayal, and the heaviest of angst. It gets brutal. You’ve been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would help to read or re-read chapter 2 in conjunction with this chapter for the best results.

_**Ten Years Later...** _

Chloe’s car pulled into the blandest driveway of an even blander ranch style home with a pair of hedges fixed on each side and a narrow winding sidewalk. She ruffled her hair to give it that quick fix look, she dried her eyes, took one final look in the rearview mirror, making double sure she’s covered up any signs of sleeplessness and heartache.

Yanking her keys out of the ignition, Chloe hooked them on her belt loop. The redhead took a deep breath. Saying a silent prayer that they would be merciful today, just today, because she didn’t know if she could handle any more fucking heartbreak.

Chloe was ready to hop out of the car when she remembered.

_Almost forgot_. The veterinarian pulled down her visor. The two tickets were clipped next to the mirror. It was now or never, time to bite the bullet and see if this particular month would grace her a modicum of happiness.

She stepped out of the car. Chloe slid her purse strap further up her shoulder. Her heels clicked on the concrete as she walked up to the home; a strand of hair blew in front of her face which gave the middle-aged woman an excuse to swipe her hand across her face, ridding herself of any potential tears that may have prickled in the corner of her eye. Her green dress ruffled in the autumn wind; thankfully, she had on the black blazer, so she wasn’t _too_ cold. Although now she couldn’t say she minded a little chill because it took her out of her feelings, and Chloe could not afford to be an emotional wreck right now. Her emotional meltdown last month may have burned the remnants of an already fragile bridge, especially when the police were called to the residence.

Welp, damned if she does. Damned if she doesn’t. Her bony finger grazed the doorbell. Every muscle in Chloe’s body clenched upon hearing the faint chime echo through the home.

A dark-haired man with well-coiffed hair despite being in his late thirties answered the door. Chloe noticed he wasn’t wearing pants and his white and blue striped dress shirt was hardly buttoned. It didn’t take a college degree for the older woman to figure out what she interrupted.

“Chad.” Chloe cleared her throat as elegantly and professionally as she could muster.

Chad let out an annoyed sigh. “Chloe, not this again.”

“Please, Chad. I need to see my son,” she pleaded fighting back tears.

“You know what the judge said. He’s not your son. Beca gave birth to him. You _didn’t_.”

Chloe’s arms visibly trembled. Chad noticed; Chloe probably wanted to punch him in the face. “I raised him when he was a little boy,” she said meaning every word of it. Sure, she and Beca were divorced, but the first five years of Logan’s life, the formative years, meant something. Milestones happened when she was raising her son.

Could Chad say the same?

“Yes, Chloe. I’ve heard the same goddamn speech for nearly a decade now, so please just spare us. You never formally adopted him; therefore, you have no claim to him. Case fucking closed!”

“I didn’t think I needed to adopt him because I never thought Beca would fucking divorce me!” She yelled; civility be damned. Chloe could not give a fuck - let the police come haul the crazy woman away, _again_. The veterinarian was never going to stop fighting for the love of her life, the person she watched come into this world fourteen years ago on a chilly autumn night.

“Please Chad. Can I- can I just talk to Beca?” She pleaded- _ineffectively._

The man rested his hand on his hip, “Beca doesn’t want to see you.” _Logan doesn’t want to see you,_ Chad thought about adding.

Let Chloe keep pushing his buttons and that tidbit of information might just bubble up to the surface.

“What’s going on here?” A woman’s voice suddenly appeared as if she was summoned (technically, she was), one all too familiar to the redhead. Beca joined her husband at the door, in the same state of undress. Chloe took in her ex-wife. Aging treated Beca well, her skin still milky, flawless even. Either the brunette was blessed with the fortune of not having a single gray hair or her ex-wife didn’t spot any. Beca could count her blessings. Chloe wished aging had been kinder to her, especially her most defining feature, her once fiery red locks went the way of the western, fading into a dull strawberry blonde.

Instead, Chloe saw the same scowl from last month. It was burned into her brain as the police car pulled away, a scowl the redhead fell in love with all those years ago.

Chloe cleared her throat to speak, but Beca cut her off. “Chloe, please stop this.” The brunette needed her words to sink in, slim chance that it was. 

It’s Chloe Beale she’s speaking to, after all. Tenacity practically defined the woman; no passion was spared. Mundane to sexual, it made not one bit of difference to the redhead.

If Beca’s presence is what drew Chloe’s attention, it was certainly not what held it. Two people standing in the doorframe meant opening the door wider. That’s when Chloe noticed it.

“Where’s all your stuff?” She craned her neck to the left then the right, nosy Chloe mode activated. Something about the sight of a nearly empty house pinged her senses. When her ginger senses tingled, the redhead started listenin’.

Chad and Beca looked at each other with worry stamped across their forehead in huge bold letters.

“Carpet,” she shot another nervous look at Chad. “We’re having new carpeting put in, so we moved a bunch of shit into the garage.” Beca stepped outside, closing the door behind her, effectively leaving Chad bewildered by her sudden actions. “Chlo,” Beca said gently, holding her gaze as the brunette stood face to face with her ex-wife. A rare vulnerability seeped out of her gentle tone. “Why don’t I see if Logan’s doing anything?”

Chloe shook her head, hardly able to believe what she just heard. She swore her brain just short-circuited. _It’s never been this easy._ “Yeah sure,” was all she could muster much to her disappointment. She shouldn’t feel this pit in her stomach, not when she’s spent the better part of a year fighting tooth and nail for this moment.

“Yeah umm,” Chloe noticed a slight apprehension from her ex-wife. Beca was hiding something.

She and Chad were _both_ hiding something.

“Hang on.” Beca walked backwards in a slow retreat towards her house. When she finally reached the door, the brunette shoved it open just enough to slip back inside.

Chloe rested her hands on her hips. The muffled sound of a brief shouting match made its way through her ears. The veterinarian couldn’t help but smile. The man may have won out after Chloe’s and Beca’s divorce, but little victories like these...well Chloe could just feel her insides flutter. Was it petty? Absolutely.Did Chloe give a damn? Not really. Fuck that asshole anyway. A sour-ass mood seemed fitting, and Chloe was not ashamed to let her bitch flag fly. 

The doorknob rattled. Chloe felt her heart soar when out walked her son for the first time in nearly a year since she’d last seen him. Logan was quick to shut the door behind him.   
  


Suspicious, but Chloe filed it away for later. He’d been eating properly, she’d noticed. Although for as petty as Chad and Beca could be, the older woman knew they would never mistreat him.

His dark brown hair was still short, the way he liked it. Logan’s attitude was a different story. A single headphone drooped from one of his ears, and Chloe could tell by the way he stumbled out that some cajoling was involved.

The fourteen-year-old grumbled. “Where are we going, _Chloe?”_ Already impatient. Apparently, there were more important things he could be doing if you were to ask him.

The redhead was taken aback. “Wow, Logan, no ‘it’s good to see you mom, I’ve missed you’ just straight to the point, huh?” Chloe walked over to her car, swallowing the pit in her stomach.

Their eyes met as they stared at each other from opposite sides of the car. “You’re not my mom,” he said without any hesitation.

Chloe’s dark blue eyes welled up with tears. She felt that coil in her stomach paralyze her while her son casually slipped into the passenger seat completely unfazed by the fact that he just shattered the heart of the woman who raised him, who stayed up with him those nights he caught a fever, who checked for monsters under his bed.

Her entire body locked up at the betrayal until she was reduced to a sobbing, trembling mess.

Logan lolled his head back against the headrest in annoyance. All he had to do was keep his fucking mouth shut, but noooo. Now he had to contend with a weepy, quite possibly even hysterical woman holding him hostage for...god knows however long this “excursion,” dragged out.

Chloe had come too far. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she settled into the driver’s seat. Logan couldn’t help noticing she was refusing to look at him.

“I just thought-” Chloe took a deep breath, steadying herself while she held back a sob. “I just thought I’d take you to a Braves game,” she forced out.

“You don’t even like baseball,” Logan sighed.

“It’s about us bonding, Logan.” She pulled down the visor to hand him one of the tickets. She rips the other one to keep for herself. “That’s what we’re doing. We’re b-bonding,” her voice broke.

Logan looked out his window, unable to stomach the sight of Chloe crying. In hindsight, he realized maybe what he said wasn’t the best way to go about things.

“Whatever.” He caved in. Throwing himself back against the passenger seat, Logan drowned out Chloe’s sniffles by cranking up the volume in his headphones. The teen’s deliberate attempt to avoid eye contact with Chloe didn’t go unnoticed.

Her knuckles tightened against the steering wheel.

* * *

“Isn’t this nice?” Chloe smiled, weakly. The woman was adjusting to the hard plastic seat. The two were treated to a kickass view from Truist Park, bottom tier, behind third base.

Logan put his earphones back in. “I guess,” he said, only half paying attention. Baseball wasn’t his thing, and it was a mystery to the teen why Chloe brought him here of all places.

Two innings passed. While the crowd roared, the space between the two was filled with awkward silence. After a while, Chloe couldn't stand it anymore.“Want something to eat? Drink?” Logan remained buried in his smartphone.

Chloe threw her hands up, wondering why she'd even bothered. Frustration consumed the older woman. Without a care in the world, Chloe reached over and plucked the earphone from Logan’s left ear. It caught her son’s attention, though not in the positive way she'd hoped. Oh well, she didn't feel like being nice right at this particular moment. “I asked you if you wanted something to eat or drink?” Chloe folded her arms across her chest while she griped at the teen.

“I’m fine,” Logan said.

Chloe gave a curt nod, pursing her lips. “I have some pictures of some cute little puppies from work. Wanna see them?”

“I’ll pass,” Logan said.

“Of course.” Chloe shrugged. Her voice was stern. Logan rarely saw this side of Chloe, well he rarely saw her begin with, but this was Chloe almost at the end of her rope. “Wouldn’t want to pull you away from that ‘oh so interesting’ world in your phone?”

Logan rolled his eyes, he really was Beca’s son. “I’ll tell mom and Chad you were being a total bitch to me!”

Chloe shrugged. “Go ahead. I’m sure they’ve said worse about me.”

“Maybe they have!” Logan snapped back.

“I’d expect nothing less.” Chloe folded her arms while rolling her eyes.   
  


“Just...leave me alone.” Logan hung his head in defeat.

Chloe patted his knee, “You got it, kiddo,” she said with spite.

Once Chloe cooled down, once she felt the pang in her chest from the guilt from giving her son the cold shoulder after their fight. Seriously, Chloe couldn’t even bring herself to look at him, she was that pissed off; the redhead tried to settle back into her seat and enjoy the baseball game.

Logan was wrong. Chloe didn’t _not_ like baseball. She was a competitive person who appreciated any sport or activity which employed a healthy competitive streak. She just wasn’t into it as much as she should be. Football, basketball, baseball, yeah, she understood the basic gist of each game. Varsity dance was her home away from home in high school. Chloe wished she would’ve taken the time to immerse herself in other sports in her youth, but dancing took up a great deal of her time. She was a competition girl first, whether singing or dancing, and an athlete second.

Chalk it up to several regrets in her life.

A dark shadow in the corner of her eye caught her attention. A blur, which took shape right before her eyes. The redhead blinked then rubbed her eyes, believing it was something in her eye or a trick of the light. Aubrey Posen stood right before her, though stood wasn't the proper word. Aubrey _hovered_ in front of her, levitating almost a foot off the ground.

Terror washed through the middle-aged woman. Aubrey was dressed head to toe in all black. Gone were the blonde’s soft bluish-green eyes. In their place were the most unsettling, glowing orbs.

A chill crept down Chloe’s spine. Suddenly, the redhead felt dread and doom overpowering her. This _thing_ couldn’t be Aubrey, not her Aubrey. It looked like her, it carried itself like her-

_“You failed, Chloe!”_ It even sounded like _her_.

“Aubrey!” Chloe called out, “What are you talking-“

_“You failed, Chloe Beale!”_ it taunted her. _“You couldn’t protect them.”_ Aubrey singsonged in an eerie, high-pitched voice.

_Stop it._ Chloe wanted to scream.

_“Chloe and Beca sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love. Then comes marriage, then comes baby in the baby carriage.”_

Chloe cradled her head in her hands. She rocked back and forth hoping Aubrey, or this specter would stop tormenting her.

_Aubrey gasped. “Then comes burglar. Then comes divorce. Then comes the cheap wino, who lost her home, her family, most of her friends, and now all she has are casual drunken hookups in her shitty apartment, so she doesn’t cry herself to sleep thinking about the fact she’s a terrible mother who worked all the time and never had time for her family.”_

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up Aubrey!” Chloe wailed.

“Dude.” Logan snapped his head to the left. “What’s your deal?”

Chloe’s eyes stung from the tears, as she blinked, desperately trying to regain her bearings. Aubrey was nowhere to be seen, just Logan and a few drunk onlookers staring at her nervously.

“Sorry,” she sniffled. “Did you see Aubrey?”

“Aubrey Posen?” Logan cocked an eyebrow.

Chloe nodded.

“No, Chloe, I didn’t see Aubrey.”

“She was right there. Her eyes were glowing, and she was taunting me,” Chloe’s voice was frantic.

“There’s nobody there. Especially Aubrey Posen of all people. God, you’re insane.”

“I know what I saw Logan!” Chloe yelled.

“Ugh. Why don’t we just go?”

“But-but, we’re _bonding_ ,” she wept.

“I don’t want to ‘bond’ with you, Chloe,” Logan emphasized the word with finger quotes. “I wanna go home!”

“Fine.” Chloe snatched her purse. The redhead felt her head and then her face warm up. The impulse to slap the ungrateful boy overwhelmed her. Chloe took deep, shallow breaths. If she slapped him, Chad and Beca would never let her see Logan ever again. Standing on the grimy cement steps, with the wind blowing in her face, watching a teenage boy scramble to get out of his seat, while all she could do was look at him and feel the compelling _want_ to lash out violently, to mark his face with the palm of her hand, to hope a fingernail or two leaves a bloody gash across his milky cheek; Chloe knew she’d been broken, put out to pasture, a hollow shell of the woman she once was.

Logan struggled to keep up with the redhead. Chloe ignored him, refusing to look back until she reached the parking lot.

* * *

Chloe pulled into the driveway. Traditionally, Logan would scramble out of the vehicle without so much as a thank you. On a good day, the boy would wave, or offer some cagey acknowledgment of Chloe’s existence.

Why should Chloe hope for the best anymore? What did she have to live for outside of her job? Family, God no, that ship sailed. Her son hated her.

Chloe was just a sack of meat, doomed to live out a cursed existence under a perpetual rain cloud looming over her head, wondering ‘what if’, crying about what could have been, hoping the angel of death takes mercy on her before she reaches the age of incontinence and agonizing in a hospital bed staring at four walls and taking bets on whether or not the broken heart kills her first?

_Stupid. Worthless. Chloe._ She didn’t even think to fight for custody of their gun in the divorce. The veterinarian would be lying if she said she hadn’t spent nights, after a wine binge, or a meaningless one-night stand, wondering just how appetizing a bullet would taste?

Nobody would even care. Chloe Beale, another promising soul lost in the shuffle, wiped from the collective consciousness as if she’d never existed.

Something made her try, though. Pathetic as she was.“L-Logan, p-p-please. D-D-Do-Don’t go,” Chloe gasped for air in between sobs. “I’m a w-wreck without you!”

Chloe felt sick to her stomach, each gasp for air felt like the last. Her muscles went limp, and she was so scared she was going to puke all over everything.

Logan sat beside her, annoyed, angry, and uncomfortable. Watching another person cry was always something that made the boy uneasy.

Chloe gripped the steering wheel tight. Frantically, she rocked back and forth, her breathing labored and controlled, the only thing she could think of to keep herself from dry heaving all over the car.

“Pl-please don’t leave me,” Chloe squeaked. “You’re my ba-” Chloe gagged. Sweat rained down her forehead, the vomit was sitting right at the top, on a hair-trigger. “My-my bab-y,” she said with heavy eyes.

“Chloe. You need to pull yourself together before you make yourself sick.” Logan said.

“I was your Mama,” she gritted through clenched teeth, the older woman’s breathing worked its way into a stable pattern. “I changed your diapers.”

Anger swelled up in the teen, he’d made it clear earlier Chloe wasn’t his mom. Logan looked over at the sad woman sitting beside him, part of him pitied her. Chloe could’ve tried harder throughout the years; she could’ve made an effort to not be so incompetent at everything.

_“To the Moon and Back_ was your f-favorite bedtime story.”

“Enough!” Logan shouted. “I told you. You are not my mother!”

Chloe gasped.

“You’re just some skank my mom was married to!”

Chloe lurched sideways, barely managing to open up her door, tears blinded her as she expelled everything from her guts onto the driveway. The muscles in her back shoulders tightened, followed by her chest. The redhead’s stomach muscles constricted, she couldn’t stop vomiting, and coughing, and sputtering. Logan couldn’t unbuckle his seatbelt fast enough.

Chloe could make out the faint _thunk_ of the door opening. “Wait,” she gurgled.

Logan was almost out the door with his back facing Chloe when he felt compelled to turn around. Chloe was shivering, her head rested on the bend of her elbow on the steering wheel. The middle-aged woman was panting, parts of her green dress and black blazer were stained with droplets of butterscotch colored vomit. _Ruined._

Weakly Chloe brought her trembling hand up to her lips to wipe her mouth then desperately reached out for her son, puke traveling down the sleeve of her blazer and dripping onto the passenger seat.

A twinge of guilt struck the boy, despite his animosity towards her, Logan could admit not even Chloe deserved this.

“What,” he groaned.

Tears streamed down Chloe’s eyes, “I love you,” she said, weakly.

Logan turned his back once again, determined to walk away from the woman he painstakingly convinced himself he stopped caring about, long ago.

“Don’t. Say. That.”

“Please,” Chloe's lip quivered as she begged.

A long pause filled the air, before the boy hesitantly sighed, “Ditto.” He slammed the door shut.

Chloe produced the weakest, faintest, smile she could muster given the circumstances. Impulsively she flicked the switch, turning the heat on, hoping it would make her chills go away. The distraught woman rested her head on her arm on the steering wheel, until her breathing returned to normal, her muscles stopped aching, and her shivering died down.

Wiping her eyes, the redhead sniffled then started her car.

Chloe cried the entire way home, the taste of vomit still lingering in the back of her mouth.

* * *

_**One week later** _

Chloe was met with surprise as she pulled up to Beca and Chad’s home, ready to try her luck once more. The first red flag was the two cars parked in the driveway she knew belonged neither to her ex-wife or her husband. She then noticed half of a dozen people standing single file, outside the front door of the house.

The veterinarian wrenched off her seatbelt and stormed up to the small congregation of people.

“Excuse me,” Chloe said to no one person in particular, “what’s going on here?” Chloe’s eyes widened.

“Oh, are you here for the open house?” A middle-aged blonde woman asked, oblivious to the other woman’s hostility.

“What open house?!” Chloe panicked.

“The owners moved out of state,” Chloe’s heart dropped to her feet, the statement having taken her breath away. The middle-aged woman looked over at her husband, then back to Chloe, having sensed she said something that upset the other woman. “Yeah...strangest thing they packed up, then just up and left.”

“Oh my god!” Chloe screamed. She shoved the couple out of the way as she bolted into the house.

Gone was every trace of furniture, every indication that a family ever lived there, prior.

“No!” Chloe screamed, while she ran through the house. Every room laid completely bare. Not even a single leftover cardboard box or light fixture.

The family vanished without a trace.

“Logan!” She cried out into the empty space.

“Beca!” She screamed.

“No!” Chloe slid down against the wall until she was curled up with her head in her knees.

“No!”

“No!”

“Noooooo!” She screamed until her voice went hoarse, and she wretched.

_“C-oeeeeeeee,”_ a faint, otherworldly voice, called out to the hysterical woman.

“No!” Chloe thrashed and slammed her balled up fists onto the carpet.

“ _Chloeeeeeeeee_!” The same voice called out, more frantic this time. The intense familiarity stirred the crying woman.

“Nooooooo!”

“ _Chloe!”_ Beca Mitchell’s voice was unmistakable.

“CHLOE!!”

Chloe Mitchell woke up, crying and flailing in her bed, fiery red hair plastered to her temples by sweat. Chloe’s heart nearly thumped out of her chest, as the discombobulated woman took in her surroundings

“Hey,” a soft angelic voice greeted her. Beca’s voice!

Her Beca. With her, here, in bed.

“You were having a nightmare, Babe.” Beca said, softly.

_To be continued...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Did y’all really think I’d do that to Chloe? Lol unlike the writers of the Pitch Perfect movies I don’t hate Chloe.
> 
> *Anyone figure out or start to get suspicious that this might be a dream?
> 
> *Anyone want to take a crack at interpreting what the dream means? It’s crawling with metaphor...I hope?
> 
> * Originally when I was writing chapter 3, my first idea, after Chloe pukes her guts out then reaches out to Logan and says “I love you,” was for Logan to just walk away and say nothing. Leaving Chloe completely heartbroken and distraught. But as I was writing the chapter, and more things came out, I realized I couldn’t do that to Chloe. I had to give her SOMETHING, one little hope spot. Especially because I knew how the chapter would end, with them leaving.
> 
> In my head, I was working with the notion that a small part of Logan, deep down, still cared about Chloe. But I didn't want him to outright say “I love you,” it needed to be more neutral, more bittersweet. I figured having him say “Ditto” was a calm medium.


	4. Rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picking up immediately from where they left off, Beca and Chloe finally discuss what’s bothering them, like a mature couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shhhhh it’s okay little darlings, the rough part is over. Fluff, warmth, and healing will now commence.

_“You were having a nightmare, Babe.”_

Chloe panted, “You’re here?”

Beca cocked her head to the side, “Yeah...where else would I be?”

“Where’s Logan?” Chloe asked, worriedly.

“He’s staying with my dad and Sheila,” Beca said slowly, unsure what to make of her wife’s bizarre question.

Beca watched Chloe visibly relax. Her wife wiped a sheen of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

“You were having a nightmare, Babe,” Beca said, again.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess,” Chloe brushed it off.

“Maybe we should talk about it?” Beca suggested in a whisper.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Chloe grumbled. “Just the same dream I’ve been having the past couple of nights.” Chloe sighed. The tired woman moved her leg and butt as she began to shift her position to face the other side - the side not _facing_ Beca.

A soft hand on her side stopped her.

“Don’t do that.” Chloe felt Beca shifting positions with her. “I’m the one who shuts people out,” Beca whispered into her wife’s neck. The shorter girl could feel the fabric of her wife’s pajama top. Instinctively, but not aggressively, Beca’s fist balled up and scrunched some of the fabric. Her wrist laid half on Chloe’s shirt, half on her soft, toned, peacefully warm skin. “Talk to me, baby,” she whispered.

Chloe nodded.

“Hold me,” Chloe murmured. Beca noted how uncharacteristically tense her wife was, both physically and in her voice.

“Yeah. Yeah of course,” Beca shifted onto her back so Chloe could turn over. Chloe settled comfortably into Beca’s soft embrace. As Chloe rested her head on Beca’s chest, Beca pulled the covers over them, stopping just short of their neckline. The brunette coiled her right arm around the taller girl. Immediately, she felt her wife curl up then melt into the embrace, the tenseness evaporated.

“You know,” Chloe sniffled, “I always feel safest wrapped up in your arms.”

“Me too, Babe,” Beca kissed her wife on the head.

So, Chloe told her everything.

About the messy divorce, keeping Logan from seeing her then turning their son against her, _Chad_ , the failed attempts to bond with Logan, and finally, them leaving without telling Chloe and leaving her all alone, and heartbroken.

“Wow. Yeah. There’s a lot to unpack there,” Beca admitted. “First off, that’s never gonna happen.”

“But Beca…” Chloe interrupted her, raising her head off Beca’s chest to look her wife in the eyes.

Beca looked down at her wife. “Even if…and that’s a really big ‘if’ Chlo…we’re talking getting struck by lightning, or Amy Adams winning the Oscar ‘if’, we didn’t make it; I would never keep you from seeing Logan.”

“You’re his real mom, though. I’m just-I’m just the person you’re raising him with.” Chloe cried.

Tears prickled in the corner of Beca’s eyes. She felt her heart break a little, at her wife’s words. _Was that really what Chloe thought of herself?_ Beca wondered.   
  


“Chlo. Hey, look at me,” she told her wife in a soft but firm voice. Chloe looked up at a smiling Beca, not caring that her vision was blurred from the tears. “You aren’t ‘just the person I’m raising him with’. You are my wife, my soulmate, my best friend, my co-parent, and my partner. And that little boy loves you like you hung the moon and the stars. Know why? Because you are his Mama.”

“I suppose,” Chloe lowered her head back onto Beca’s chest, avoiding eye contact the entire time. “I couldn't protect you guys. My baby or my wife,” she bawled. “I’m a shitty mom.”

Beca snuggled into her wife a little more. “Chlo do you hear yourself?” Beca whispered gently, “We’re safe. Our child is safe. You protected your family, Baby.”

Chloe shook her head in disbelief. Beca felt the languid back and forth swipes against her chest.   
  


Beca kissed Chloe’s head again. “We are here, alive because of you Chloe. You did that. You protected us.”

“But he’s still out there,” Chloe murmured, shuffling back up to look her wife in the eyes.

Beca pulled Chloe in even tighter. The petite brunette rubbed her hand up and down her wife’s back.Security, along with warmth, spread through Chloe. The redhead felt a little bit of her confidence slowly creeping back. She leaned up and gave Beca a teary, but happy peck on the lips.

“I know,” Beca whispered. “I’m scared too, but we’ll get through this _together_ as a family.”

Wrapped up in each other, cuddling, the two women held each other in the darkness. Two halves molded together. Breathing, existing, warming each other up, Chloe and Beca spent a peaceful couple of minutes in silence. Hearts pounding, not in a fearful way, but a calm wind sweeping across an ocean.

“I think I wanna talk to someone, Bec. Like a therapist.” Chloe broke the ice.

“You think it’ll help?” Beca asked. Not in a condescending manner but a curious one.

“I do. I shot someone, Beca. Even though the creep deserved it, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you and Logan safe; it still messes with my head.”

Beca nodded, then cleared her throat. “Yeah. I uh-think it might help if I talked to someone about this too.”

“Do you want to find a therapist together? And go through this as a couple or would you prefer your own?” Chloe asked earnestly.

“I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out together.”

“Beca, does Logan think he can’t come to me with problems?”

“What’re you talking about?” Beca asked.

“He came to you, Beca. He woke you up. Does he not trust me enough to come to me for help?” Chloe sniffled, hating that a part of herself even felt this way. She shouldn’t feel jealous, but Chloe couldn’t help it. Beca spent most of the day with their son, and while Chloe’s almost always home for dinner, she still felt terrible. Sometimes Chloe felt so isolated from her family, especially these past few days. “Is it because I work all the time? I’m not a constant in his life.”

“Chlo, he’s four. He probably came to me because I’m the parent closest to the door and the first one he saw.” Beca let her words sink in before she continued. The moonlight shining through the gap in their curtains enhanced Chloe’s features. Beca knew she married a goddess. “Sometimes you’re all he talks about. You guys have little impromptu dance parties. He only wants you to make his oatmeal because you do it ‘with the perfect amount of water’. Hell, Chlo, I can’t ever get it right. He joins you for yoga. Shit, the little traitor even likes your singing voice better.” Beca chuckled.

Chloe smiled. Her tears dried up. Gone was the worry that she’d be unable to sleep the rest of the night. As long as Beca kept rubbing her back, the redhead knew she’d be able to drift off into a peaceful sleep wrapped up in the warm embrace of her soulmate.

Well...almost. There was one more thing she wanted to discuss.

“Hey, Becs. Would you be mad if I..?” Chloe mumbled.

“Would I be mad about what?” Beca looked down at her wife.

Chloe continued. “If I wanted to formally adopt Logan?”

“What? Chloe, your name is on his birth certificate!”

“It is?”

“Of course,” said Beca. “I filled out the paperwork myself in the hospital,” Beca smoothed her fingers through her wife’s hair.

“Then, could we see an attorney? What if I hadn’t shot that guy first? We should’ve written our wills a long time ago. We really need to make sure Logan is taken care of should something happen to one or both of us.”

“We really screwed up, didn’t we?” Beca said. “God, Chloe how could we be so stupid?”

Chloe thought for a moment, “It’s not a mistake until we refuse to correct it, Bec.”

Beca smiled, giving Chloe another kiss on the head. “You’re right. I’m gonna make some phone calls first thing in the morning. Believe me, Chlo, if something ever happens to me, you’ll be the one raising him. I’ll make sure of it, come Hell or high water.”

“He’s _our_ son.” Chloe asserted. Her confidence was creeping back up again.

“That’s right. Nothing will ever change that. Especially not some douchebag named _Chad_.” The name alone caused the shorter woman to grimace in disgust.   
  


“And if anyone so much as even suggests he’s not-” Beca grabbed Chloe and gently eased the redhead off her chest, so they were lying beside each other. Beca then rolled over on top of her delighted wife. Chloe heard the _thunk_ of their gun being picked off of the nightstand, where it had been and would remain, _loaded_ until their intruder is caught or their son returns from Warren and Sheila’s in a few days. With one arm, Beca wrapped herself around Chloe’s left shoulder before settling into her right side, and another she raised the weapon, training the muzzle on their wall-mounted television. “...or even suggests I cut you out of his life, well-,” Beca flicked the gun upward simulating a gunshot, careful with her dexterity and making sure her finger wasn’t on the trigger, “-Then I’ll shoot ‘em.”   
  


Beca flashed her wife a naughty smirk before putting the gun back down. Chloe pulled Beca into a deep sensual kiss.

The makeout session lasted another minute before Beca once again settled back into her side of the bed. Chloe resumed her previous position, snuggling up into her wife’s hold.

“I also want to spend some quality time with Logan. Just the two of us. Bonding,” Chloe murmured sleepily.

Beca yawned. “I think he’d like that, babe. Scratch that I, know he would. You’re his best friend.”

“Especially since he might not be an only child for much longer,” Chloe mumbled. “Seriously Becs, how weird is the timing of all this? Just as I’m starting the treatments.”

“Totally weird, babe,” Beca murmured.

“G’Night Beca.”

Beca settled into her wife for the final time, making sure Chloe was comfortable sleeping on her chest. “Night, Babe,” she pressed a kiss to Chloe’s head. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Chloe mumbled.

A peaceful night’s sleep blessed the two women for the first time in nearly a week since their lives were uprooted, only to be interrupted a few hours later by a phone call from the Atlanta Police Department informing the ladies that one Curtis Bower checked himself into Grady Memorial Hospital with a GSW(gunshot wound) to the shoulder. After some digging, police quickly realized Bower and the burglar were one and the same. A search warrant turned up the stolen AMA award in his seedy hotel room.  
  


The Mitchell family was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Once again, I’m portraying gun safety. Beca’s finger is not on the trigger; and it’s okay for them to keep a loaded firearm out in the open because their child isn’t staying with them at the moment.
> 
> *This isn’t the end. There will be an epilogue.
> 
> *Oh lawd, if Amy Adams wins an Oscar it means Bechloe will get divorced. Jk!


	5. Epilogue(Accretion)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe spends some quality time with her son. This time their bonding experience is way more positive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Another Bechloe Shipper for being my beta. She really saves my stories in editing. She is my Ambassador of Quan!

**Two** _**Months Later** _

Chloe looked immaculate under the fluorescent lights of the gift shop; the thirty-four-year-old was seriously vibing.

Some quality bonding time with her little boy was exactly what she needed after riding the tail end of a wave of progress these past two months, Chloe was reaping the perks of a well-earned rockstar mom reputation.

Good for her. She and Beca managed to juggle a spur of the moment move, once the couple realized they just didn’t feel safe or mentally secure in their old home post burgle. As luck, or maybe good fortune from the holiday spirits would have it, everything came together and they found a newer, slightly larger home in the Decatur area, which eliminated the hassle of having to familiarize oneself with a new area. The search for a therapist they both clicked with was also turning up promising leads.

Chloe was happy. She was slummin’ it with a cute brunette, and the cutest most adorably wholesome little boy in the whole wide world.

“Ooooh, How about this one?” Chloe smiled, bringing the stuffed plush whale shark down to her son’s eye level.

Logan shook his head, no. “Mama, upsy-daisy,” The child raised his arms above his head and made a squeezing motion, one his mama knew meant he wanted to be picked up.

Chloe scrunched up her face, “You’re gettin’ to be so big and strong mister! Grrrrr.” Chloe growled, playfully, tickling her son as she picked him up.

Logan giggled. “Watch Mama’s tummy, jellybean,” Chloe smiled. Logan was careful to make sure his feet didn’t kick his Mama’s tummy.

“You’re pretty, Mama!” Logan said earnestly, earning him a glowing smile and a kiss on the side of his head from Chloe. The compliment sent butterflies to her stomach because even though it was a simple mama-son day for the two of them, Chloe dressed modestly, a blue long sleeve with a 3/4 black blazer, and black leggings, an outfit similar to the aca-initiation night so many years ago when she almost kissed Beca for the first time, an outfit which made her fiery red locks pop; she blushed uncharacteristically.

“Thank you, sweet boy,” Chloe said, a little bashful. “Can you see better now?” Chloe asked her son, shifting Logan so he had a better view of the display shelf.

“Hmmm,” the child said after a pause. “I want that one.”

“Ooooh, a clownfish. Good choice,” Chloe smirked, confidently.

“It’s a Nemo, Mama,” the boy corrected. Chloe leaned forward to let Logan grab the plushie. Once the child picked the specific one he wanted, Chloe carried him on her hip to the counter to the cashier. A jovial blonde woman, who looked about ten years older than Chloe. “And who’s Nemo’s best friend?” Chloe asked her child with radioactive enthusiasm.

“Dory!” Logan answered, gleefully.

“That’s right!” Chloe cheered. The redhead looked down to fish through her purse after placing the plushie on the counter. A second later she pulled out her orange Meridian Credit Union, bank card; yes, she and Beca belong to a credit union, peak adulting, thank you very much. She handed the card to the cashier.

Logan rested his head on his mother’s chest, nuzzling himself comfortable. “You’re my best friend, Mama!” The boy proudly declared, without a care in the world who heard.

“Awwww.” Chloe’s heart melted into a gooey puddle, “You’re my best friend too, Bug!” She kissed her son on the head. Logan wrapped his arms tightly around his mom, effectively staking claim to her.

The cashier smiled at the mother and her little boy, while she rang up their purchase and slipped the toy into a plastic bag decorated with all sorts of little fishies who lived in the aquarium. “Your son is so adorable!” she said, in awe of the cuteness.

“Thank you.” Chloe beamed. “He’s the love of my life.” Chloe grinned from ear to ear, her smile oozed with pride.

The clerk handed Chloe back her card, along with the toy wrapped snug as a bug in the bag, which Chloe hiked up her shoulder. Raising her son with both hands, like he was Simba, Chloe twirled him around in the air.

“Okay little man, you ready to go have some more fun?” Chloe set Logan back down on his feet.

“Yeah!” he said.

Chloe offered her hand for her son to take, which Logan accepted without hesitation, “Are you gonna be Mama’s little helper, so she can learn all about the fishies?”

Logan bounced with glee, and Chloe saw the hope in his eyes, the elation. She knew she’d look back on this time, this bonding experience, along with countless others, and wonder how on Earth she ever thought this perfect little boy might not love her.

Locking hands with his Mama, they ventured off into the aquarium where hours of adventure awaited them.

* * *

“Fred. His name’s Fred, Mama!” Logan informed his mother.

“Fred huh?” Chloe watched the fat beige fish zoom by the glass, which her child’s face was pressed up against. She wondered how she’d gotten so lucky, while she watched her little boy fog up the glass, draw circles and squiggles, then repeat the process. Chloe found her soulmate, absolute perfection wrapped up in a 5’ 2” package of eyeliner, sarcasm, and fluff. Together they made, in her _totally unbiased_ opinion, a cherub. A cherub with gorgeous chestnut brown hair, and a laugh that could light up a black hole. God, Chloe was the luckiest girl in the whole world.

Chloe knelt beside her son. “I think that’s Fred’s best friend, Myrtle. Myrtle the Turtle,” Chloe pointed to the sea turtle swimming in front of them.

“Myrtle the Turtle,” Logan sounded each word out, studying them with an intensity Chloe couldn’t help but find adorable. “Oooh, Mama!” Chloe heard her son gasp. She felt a tug as her son pulled her by the hand across to the other side of the Ocean Voyager tunnel.

“Are you Sally the Sting Way’s doctor, mama?” Logan asked. The child almost fell backward watching the giant stingray dart over the plexiglass above his head.

Chloe giggled. “Nuh-uh cutie pie, Mama doesn’t take care of fishies or stingrays.”

“My Mama’s an animal doctor!” Logan leaned over to tell the family beside them as if it was the most exciting news in the world. The family smiled watching the little boy point to his mother, unwaveringly proud of her, his bestest friend in the whole world.

“I bet you are so proud of her aren’t you little guy?” The other mom asked.

“I am. I love you, Mama.” Logan ran over to hug her.

“Don’t ever grow up, Sweetheart,” Chloe teared up.

“I won’t.”

Chloe wiped her eyes. “Look! There’s a shark, Logan” Chloe pointed to the blueish-gray nurse shark that zipped over their heads. Logan snatched his mother’s hand once again, darting off in the direction of the ocean predator. They were in for a long day, and Chloe wouldn’t want it any other way.

* * *

Families dispersed from the Georgia Aquarium as the afternoon dwindled until a few employees and a cheerful ginger and her equally enthusiastic son were among the few left. The veterinarian bribed her son with frozen yogurt to get him to finally agree to leave.

“Mama.” Logan’s arm went slack as he let go of his mother’s hand as they were within yards of the exit.

“Mmmhmm,” Chloe responded.

“How you and Mommy meet?”

“Well,” Chloe drew the word out with a flourish, before picking up her little boy once again. “Mommy and I met in college. Do you know what college is, Logan?” Chloe smiled.

“Big people school!”

“That’s right!” Chloe encouraged the child. “You’re so smart, Bug.”

“See, Mama and Aunt Bree were in an a cappella group.”

“What’s acabella?” Logan asked.

“A capella,” Chloe corrected. “You know how Mommy works with singers who play instruments?”

Logan nodded.

“Well, acapella is where people sing without instruments. All the sound comes from the mouth,” Chloe said.

“Anyway, Mama and Aunt Bree were outside looking for people to sing with us, and that’s when I saw the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world!” Chloe smiled, dreamily.

“Mommy!” Logan said.

“Uh-huh.”

Chloe brought her face close to her child’s face, it was so cute how engrossed in the story he was. Chloe found it adorable. She fixed her face so it looked super dramatic. She leaned closer to her son as if she wanted to tell him a secret. “Mommy said acapella was lame.”

Logan gasped. His mouth formed an “O” shape, and Chloe had to bite the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t laugh at her son’s dramatic reaction.

“Why?” Logan asked, completely shook.

Chloe relaxed her face, “Because Mommy likes to act like she’s big and tough, but we know she’s a big ol’ softie.” Chloe tickled Logan, who laughed uncontrollably. They bumped and rubbed their noses together. Eskimo kisses were still her little boy’s favorite thing.

Chloe was relieved. Setting her son back down, she held his hand while they walked out the exit into the parking lot. The mother regaled her child with the rest of the story about how she and Beca met, then they were off for ice cream. She hoped every bonding experience was as perfect as this one, she knew her little boy wouldn’t be so little for much longer. Chloe wanted to create as many memories as possible. Especially since their little family was about to grow by one more.

Chloe and Beca didn’t plan on telling Logan he’s going to be a big brother, for a couple more weeks. The mothers preferred to let him enjoy being an only child for a little while longer.

Chloe fondly remembered holding the positive strip in her hands, rubbing her stomach, and looking at an equally proud Beca, while they both cried happy tears in their bathroom. Wondering just how on Earth they got so lucky, so blessed?

_  
The end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I’m not one of those people who believes it was love at first sight with Chloe at the activities fair. I think her feelings for Beca crept up on her sometime in between movies 1&2\. When Chloe tells her son “I saw the most beautiful girl in the whole world,” yes she thought Beca was attractive. But when you fall in love with someone later you retroactively hyperbolize every interaction: 
> 
> *Chloe saying “Grrrr” is just so *chef’s kiss* what more could you want from life?
> 
> *Now Ivy Mitchell exists.


End file.
